


Carry You Home

by Quilly



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Humanstuck, after slapping him, and jade thinks it's cute, attempts to make it right, blunders through an evening, deservedly, i think, in which karkat dun goofed, inspired by three songs, y'know it's really unclear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quilly/pseuds/Quilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Karkat Vantas and you didn't want to come tonight.</p>
<p>(inspired by We Are Young by Fun, Closing Time by Semisonic, and Drive By by Train)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry You Home

**Author's Note:**

> This one is NOT a request, exactly, but it did branch off of one and go in an interesting direction. Enjoy!

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you didn’t want to come tonight.

The bar smells bad and you have the promising beginnings of a headache starting up behind your left eye. You came here with a group, and are sitting alone because that is the kind of friends you have. Eridan is getting shot down by everyone with a pulse in the room. Sollux is chatting with the bartender over something computerish. Gamzee left as soon as you all got here and you’re pretty sure he’s huffing something in the bathroom.  
  
And Terezi? Your friend-with-benefits-but-only-when-it’s-convenient-for-her-oh-let’s-just-avoid-emotional-attachment-right-now-and-have-fun-wait-you-like-me-what-uh-let-me-not-call-you-for-a-month-at-a-time-when-I-remember-that?  
  
She’s sitting at the other end of the bar, chatting and laughing and sitting awfully close to some douche with blond hair and pretentious sunglasses. In your seat. That you had. Before another one of your small tiresome spats and you left to get a refill on your—you actually have no idea what you’re drinking, only that it burns a little on the way down and tastes kinda fruity. Eridan ordered it when you walked in, and you don’t have the fortitude to find out the drink’s actual name. It’ll do.  
  
You are halfway through deciding whether or not drinking it is actually worth it when you glance to the side and freeze.  
  
There she is, looking just as pretty, though the night life look suits her. Not that you didn’t enjoy the sundress. But the skinny jeans and artfully ripped top looks good, too. And then you remember that if she sees you, you will most likely die a horrific death, so you hurriedly retreat into your drink.  
  
Too late. You know she’s seen you, because she stops way too suddenly for her to, oh, realize her favorite song is on or something, and then she kind of awkwardly slides into a stool two seats down. You trace patterns on your glass and chew your lip. Um.  
  
You glance at her, now and then, and she looks like she isn’t paying you much attention. She’s drinking water with lemon. At a bar. Who does that? At least, you think it’s water. Could be something else. You continue trying to mince your lip with your teeth and pretend you don’t exist.  
  
You can’t stop looking at her from the corner of your eye. Her hair’s mostly up, a few crazy messy strands falling out, and she tucks some behind her ear every now and then. Her eyes are pretty thickly defined tonight. Lots of eyeliner. Different look from last time. She went for the natural look that day. Again, not bad or better, just different. Black fingernails. Doggie head earrings are still the same. Flash of green eyes—oh, great, now she’s looking at you, too. Way to go, genius, you are truly a master of discretion.  
  
You down the rest of your drink and slide one stool over.  
  
"Hey," you say. You don’t feel all that tipsy. Was there just not a lot of alcohol in this thing? You’ll have to remember to punch Eridan in the teeth later. She glances at you again—definitely glances—and flashes a quick smile.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Uh. Do you…do you remember me?"  
  
She looks you full in the face now, and her expression is a little frosty. “I do. Karkat, right?”  
  
Her flippant tone stings a little, but you deserve it so you take it. “Yeah. You’re Jade.”  
  
She nods. You stare at your fingers as they tap on the bartop. She takes another sip of whatever she’s drinking. Probably water. Maybe.  
  
You turn around, just to have something else to look at, and then are treated to the lovely sight of your…whatever…sharing barstool and tongue with the sunglasses guy. Awesome.  
  
"I’m sorry," you blurt, and you swear your cheeks actually heat up. If you’re blushing… "I didn’t—I mean—I—"  
  
"You mean you _didn’t_ mean to leave me by myself in a motel room?” she says, and, yeah, when she puts it that way, you really deserve to be groveling in the detritus of peanut shells and glitter at her feet. “Directly after having sex?”  
  
You rub your face. Okay.  
  
"No," you say, and she stiffens. "Yes. Look, I was just—I was confused, okay? And—and I do that, sometimes. Just. Leave. When I’m—when I’m feeling too much."  
  
"Feeling too much," she repeats flatly.  
  
"Yes," you say, and find the backbone to look her in the eyes again. "Like. I didn’t. I didn’t know how to—handle it. I mean—we just met that day, at a carnival, of all things, and it—it was like—"  
  
You suddenly don’t know how to word. This is because she has slapped you across the face.  
  
"I don’t care what your reasons are," she says, and her voice is ice now, "you don’t leave a girl alone like that. You at least have the common human decency to take her home."  
  
Yeah. You are a dirtbag. You don’t even rub your stinging cheekmeat because you can think of no better punishment. Other than maybe cutting off your junk. But even you have to admit you’re rather attached to your junk and would like to have functional use of it in the future.  
  
"That said," she continues, "thank you for apologizing. Not a lot of guys would do that."  
  
You smile thinly. “And most would just to get in your pants again.”  
  
"Are you?"  
  
Her expression is still guarded, but there’s genuine curiosity, too. You keep your eyes on her face.  
  
"Nah." You return to your empty glass. "When you walk out on heaven, they don’t let you back in."  
  
You might be a little buzzed, because there’s no way she just grinned. She’s hiding her mouth behind her hand and her hair now, but…yeah, she just…wow.  
  
"So, what have you been up to?"  
  
And it goes from there. Small talk, innocent talk, wherein jokes are told and information is exchanged of a personal nature. She starts to thaw, little by little, until she’s actually snorted her drink (yep, water; she’s here by herself and doesn’t fancy catching a taxi or going home with a stranger completely smashed) at your story of the time you, Eridan, and Sollux broke into your old high school just to decorate the football players’ locker room with men’s thongs. You forget the significance of the underwear of choice, but it might have had something to do with making the quarterback (Zahhak?) sweatier than usual on picture day.  
  
The night wears on. Terezi leaves with the sunglasses. Eridan drags Gamzee out of the bathroom, indeed high as a kite, and glances at you and nods to say he’s taking him home. You nod back gratefully and then explain to Jade why. Sollux leaves with the bartender when her shift ends. The mood of the whole joint starts sinking lower and lower, until it’s closing time and she’s yawning. You are, too. It’s almost three AM.  
  
You walk out with her, and she dips her hands into her pockets. Then she squeaks.  
  
"Oh! I almost forgot!" she says, and pulls out—is that—?  
  
"You still have that?" you say incredulously. "I—wow, I didn’t—"  
  
"Yeah," she shrugs, and then looks a little sheepish. "Uh…just because the whole day ended badly…doesn’t mean the rest of it wasn’t good. You know?"  
  
She puts a completely deflated balloon in your hands, and you cradle it like a baby bird. It still has the Skaia State Faire logo stamped on, miniaturized on the rubber. You have one yourself, stuffed at the bottom of your underwear drawer. Still has the string and everything. Hers is grey. Yours is green.  
  
"Wow," you say again, and hand it back. "That’s…wow."  
  
"Yeah." She shuffles her feet and puts her hands in her pockets again, and the air is a little awkward between you again. But it feels…clearer.  
  
"Hey, listen," you say, "I know I’m a few months late, but…can I walk you home?"  
  
For one heart-stopping minute, you know you’ve overstepped a boundary. You had your shot, took it, then fumbled it. Majorly. She shouldn’t even be talking to you right now. But you have no idea how else to express to her how sorry you are.  
  
Because, really, how are you supposed to tell someone you’ve only known for a collective sixteen hours you’re desperately in love with them?  
  
But she smiles, a small, tiny, crooked, true smile.  
  
"I might pass out halfway there," she yawns. "I’m really tired."  
  
"I’ll carry you," you say without thinking, and she looks at you.  
  
"Will you?" she replies. "Won’t let me fall?"  
  
"I won’t," you say. Your voice is strong and a little louder than you meant it to be. "I won’t. I promise."  
  
So you start walking. And then she stumbles, and without preamble you sweep her up in your arms. You’re tired. She’s not light. But you carry her and ignore your screaming limbs because even if you’ve lost your chance she’s still letting you be in her presence. You’re not going to let her down again.  
  
You set her down outside of her apartment and dip your head a little.  
  
"Uh. Okay. I guess…I’ll see you around?"  
  
She nods, but makes no move to open her door.  
  
You fumble with your phone in your pocket, and nod again.  
  
"Right. Goodnight."  
  
You turn to go, and she grabs your arm and spins you back.  
  
"If you make me regret this," she says, "I will actually kill you this time."  
  
"You’ll have to dig me up first," you reply, and when she kisses you, you taste the cotton candy and kettle corn and little helium sips of that day so long ago, when you took turns sucking in a balloon until you were both so breathless you couldn’t have stopped laughing if you tried. Heaven’s gates open back up.  
  
Two balloons, climbing up towards the soft velvet sky, their strings tied together tight as clasped hands.

 


End file.
